Final Goodbyes
by fortunatefolly
Summary: Brenda is leaving for DC, and she says goodbye to Sharon. It takes place in the MC timeline, but seems like a better fit here.


The elevator let out a sharp ding with each rising floor. It had been an obnoxiously long day, and Sharon had been fighting the urge to step out of her heels and walk the rest of the way barefoot the second she had pulled into her building's parking garage. There was a very expensive bottle of wine chilling in her fridge, and she was excited to mindlessly sit in front of the television for a few hours, an indulgence in which she rarely partook or enjoyed. Rusty was spending the evening with Kevin, and she had a few hours of silence to allow her exhausted mind to recover.

As she removed the second shoe from her aching feet, propriety could shove its head in a toilet tonight, she heard a sharp ding that came from her phone instead of the elevator.

_We're going to grab food after the movie, so I don't think I'll be back until 11._

It had been difficult to watch Rusty struggle with making friends; he had been forced to grow up so quickly at such a young age, and he often had trouble relating to his peers. While it was true, Sharon also suspected it was partly an excuse he used to protect himself from opening up to other people and potentially getting hurt again. But he and Lieutenant Tao's youngest son had found kindred spirits in their love of comic books, and their subsequent film adaptations, an aspect of childhood that Rusty had not lost.

_Okay. Have fun! Let me know if you stay out later._

Both shoes in one hand, her phone in the other, Sharon stepped out of the elevator, completely barefoot, when her phone dinged again.

_Thanks Sharon. I'll text you if anything changes._

It had been almost miraculous, seeing the way Rusty change and open himself up to Sharon. Despite their difficulties in the very beginning, Rusty was probably her most well behaved child, always keeping Sharon in the loop about his plans. She smiled softly to herself as she turned the corner, grateful for the soft carpet under feet. Her mind was already running through potential TV programs when she came to a sudden halt.

"Chief?"

Brenda Leigh Johnson was sitting on the floor in front of her condo, leaning against the door.

"Just Brenda," she said, standing up and dusting herself off. "Hi Sharon."

It had been three years. One short goodbye note, apparently Sharon hadn't even deserved an in-person goodbye, and she had never again heard from or seen the woman she had miserably failed to forget for the last three years.

She was still carrying that hideous bag; even the clutches of death could not force her to part with it. She slung it over her shoulder, her sleight frame covered in a simple black shirt and jeans, a look that was surprisingly understated for a woman whose entire wardrobe consisted of neon colors and floral prints. Sharon refused to believe Brenda Leigh Johnson owned black clothing.

"I'm glad you finally came. My butt was beginnin' to fall asleep," the blonde said, a tense smile accompanying her pitiful attempt at small talk.

Sharon had not stopped staring, had not moved, since finding Brenda at her door.

"What are you doing here?" She immediately reprimanded herself for her bluntness, but was all too stunned to mobilize the wherewithal for small talk.

"I've been offered a new job."

"Yes, in DC. I saw Agent Howard last week, and he mentioned it. But why are you here?"

"I wanted to say goodbye. I'm sorry to just show up like this, but I had to see you."

Sharon was perplexed, unable to figure out why Brenda had felt the need to seek her out and say goodbye after years of radio silence.

But they certainly couldn't have this conversation in the hallway. She couldn't be sure she wanted to hear what Brenda had to say, but she didn't have the heart to shut her out completely. The blonde was clearly anxious about being here; her hands were clasped together, and her thumbs were fiddling with each other, a nervous habit that Sharon had noticed the blonde develop when they were battling the lawsuit on the federal level. Slowly feeling the initial shock wear off, Sharon dropped her phone in her purse before reaching into her coat pocket for her key, gesturing Brenda out of the way so she could unlock the door.

She dumped her bag and shoes on the floor, heading straight for her kitchen. Blonde or no blonde, she was going to get her fix of wine tonight.

"Do you want some wine?" She shouted towards the living room, where Brenda had perched against the back of Sharon's couch. Then remembering the blonde's preference for reds, she added, "It's a Chardonnay."

"Sure," Brenda replied, her legs trying to find a comfortable position as she leaned against Sharon's couch. She had been here once before, the evening before she was supposed to fly to Atlanta for her mother's funeral. Fritz had gone to drop Joel off at the kennel, and Brenda had found herself knocking on Sharon's door. She had no memory of how she had gotten there, or how she had even found the address, but her car was parked in a visitor's spot in the parking garage of this building. Brenda ran her hand along the back of the couch, the suede resisting lightly against the traction of her fingers; she hadn't noticed the brown color the last time she was here.

Sharon reappeared with two glasses, handing one off to Brenda before making her way to her armchair. They would not share the couch tonight.

Taking the hint, Brenda rounded the corner and settled herself in the middle of Sharon's couch. Awkward small talk ensued, with Brenda asking after Rusty and Sharon asking about Brenda's departure.

"Well, good for you and Agent Howard, finding a way to make the long distance work."

Brenda found herself staring as she heard the words leaving Sharon's mouth. The brunette was just as beautiful as she had remembered. When her mother had passed, she had spent so many days blinded by grief, as though she were muddling around life without her glasses, but when Sharon had answered the door, for the first time in days, she had felt oxygen finally working its way through her body.

"Oh, yeah, we didn't…I don't," she started, before pausing, taking a sip of the wine and scrunching her face in contemplation. "We didn't trust each other to make the long distance work. I don't trust myself to do this cross country commutin' thing, and Fritz is smart enough to know that we have a hard enough time when we're together in person."

Sharon gave a quiet hum in response, hearing but not understanding Brenda explain the dissolution of her marriage; she found herself utterly distracted by the unbearable weight of the boulder that her history with Brenda had become.

Her relationship with Brenda, in whatever way it could be classified, had been a weight that Sharon had carried with her for several years, the question of what they could have been morphing itself into a metaphorical boulder that she carried with her wherever she went. They had never allowed themselves the chance to answer the question of what if, and it had become a ghost that had welded itself onto Sharon's existence. On some days, it felt like a few small pebbles she could carry around in her pocket. On other days, it felt like a sizable rock that slowed down her movements. But right now, it was a boulder, weighing down on her entire being.

If she and Brenda had allowed themselves to be together, they would have been faced with the same inevitable endings that waited at the end of every relationship – it would either work, or it wouldn't. If it had worked, they would have laid down the boulder together and moved on, freed from the weight of their unknown potential. If their relationship had failed, the boulder would have crushed them both. But at least they could have gotten up, healed from the injuries, and moved on. The closure would have been proper. But the unceasing question of what if had been a burden Sharon had carried by herself for years, and she was exhausted.

"Sharon? Hey, are you there?" Brenda was peering at her, her wine glass resting on her knee.

Sharon, so lost in her thoughts, couldn't recall at what point she had lost her focus.

"Yes, sorry."

Why was Brenda here? Was she determined to crush her for good before she left? Was it revenge, a final sadistic blow because Sharon had stopped them before it had gone too far? After downing the rest of her wine with one final swig, she set her glass down on the coffee table before drawing in a long breath, attempting to quell the jumble of thoughts that raided her mind.

"Brenda, why are you here?"

Things had changed in so many ways over the years. Even their conversation was not what it used to be, a sparring of sharp words and cutting quips overlaying genuine trust and admiration; but now, they were nothing more than stilted phrases and tense pauses. She had always been blunt with the chief, but while she was shadowing Major Crimes, her bluntness had been accompanied with compassion. Now, she found nothing but exasperation coloring the sharply cut words that left her mouth.

"I think about that night all the time."

Sharon nearly gave herself whiplash as she lifted her head.

"I've tried so hard, for the last three years, to try and forget. I thought leaving the LAPD would help me forget, it would help me move on, but thinkin' about that night – it's all I've been able to do."

Sharon felt the sting of tears build as she heard Brenda's words, the hot pool of liquid building up like a geyser, ready to burst forth when the right amount of pressure was reached. But she bit back the tears, not willing to give in after successfully holding them back for so long. She had sat in her office and cried when Brenda had left, and when the day had ended, she had vowed she wouldn't allow herself another pity party.

"At the time, I thought I needed to try and save my marriage. But I didn't give you a say Sharon. I made the decision for both of us, and it was wrong. We should have, I don't know, Sharon, I should have talked to you."

"No," Sharon croaked, clearing her throat and steadying her voice before continuing. "You made the right choice. I wouldn't have let you end your marriage for us, Brenda."

When Brenda opened her mouth to protest, Sharon shook her head and continued.

"I don't regret what happened. But you and Fritz love each other, and it would have been crazy for you to end your marriage. It wouldn't have been fair to anyone."

"Loved," the blonde corrected, and Sharon felt her eyes widen. "That worked out, didn't it," Brenda spurted out, her words dripping with sarcasm. "I thought I'd loved Fritz enough that I could forget about you. Over the years, I tried to convince myself that what happened that night was because I was so emotional, that it wasn't because I was in love with you. But turns out you were it, Sharon."

This was what it felt like to stand on the edge of a cliff without a safety net. Brenda had spent most of her life on the precipice, but she had always had a harness. She could dare to hang over the edge because her personal life was safe and secure, tied comfortably around one federal agent Fritz Howard. But she had cut that cord, and if even if she couldn't fly, even if she plummeted, she needed to jump, to finally understand the freedom to follow her heart.

"You were it. And bein' with Fritz was just a constant reminder of the fact that I wasn't with you. And I couldn't do it anymore. I knew I'd made a mistake, but I didn't want to bother you. You were the one that stopped us that night, and I didn't know if you didn't feel the same way." When Sharon's slack jawed silence continued, Brenda trekked on.

"I took the job in DC because bein' in the same city as you, Sharon, even the thought of knowin' you were just a short drive away, has become too unbearable. I was hopin' that if maybe if I was on the other side of the country, it would be easier to forget. I don't know if I will ever stop lovin' you Sharon, but maybe the thought of you would be less hauntin', and maybe I could remember what it feels like to breathe again."

Brenda deposited her wine glass, still nearly full, on the coffee table before standing and making her way to Sharon, crouching before her as she laid both her hands on Sharon's legs. She felt her entire body vibrate with the touch, and was comforted by the knowledge that the intensity of her feelings for Sharon were not just a fabrication of her mind, an easy escape from a failing marriage. They were as real as the two of them in this room right now.

"But Sharon, if there's even a chance that we could try somethin', if I knew that you would even consider givin' us a shot, I would give it all up and stay. I came here tonight because had to know. I can't leave without knowin'. I can't live with the regret of chickenin' out again."

Sharon sat speechless, attempting desperately to calm the nerves that had been set on fire when Brenda had placed herself in front of her. Words she had dreamed of hearing from Brenda, words she had envisioned a hundred different ways of leaving Brenda's mouth, were finally being uttered and yet, she didn't quite know how to untangle the sea of emotions that surged within her.

"Sharon," Brenda tried again, lightly rubbing the top of Sharon's legs with her hands. The brunette closed her eyes, trying not to allow the feeling of Brenda's hands on her legs to consume her; she was sure the blonde's hands were burning through her pants and searing her skin, leaving tiny hand shaped marks on the top of her thighs.

Brenda knew this was her final chance. She would probably never be able to muster this kind of courage again, to gather her nerves to jump over the cliff into whatever lay below her. So before her hesitation could stop her, she leaped.

Steadying herself on the chair's armrest with one hand, she reached for the back of Sharon's neck with the other and pulled her in for a kiss. She pressed her lips against the brunette's with an urgency she hadn't felt since the last time she had been here. Sharon stiffened, plunging deeper into the flood of emotions, but when her brain finally registered that Brenda was kissing her, her hands reached up into blonde's hair, pulling her close as she kissed her back. How many nights had she spent imagining that night, wishing for one more kiss? If she had known that night was going to be their very last, she would have savored it more, made greater effort to commit it to memory.

Their tongues fought, battling against each other, kissing like they used to argue. Sharon's words had failed earlier, but her body's reaction to Brenda had not changed. Her lips reached for Brenda's, her heart racing, pounding through her as though her heart had been replaced with a bass drum.

Brenda felt herself whimper as the taste of Chardonnay melted away, replaced by the spicy mint she remembered, a taste had been burned into her memory with a hot iron rod. She was sure this was what flying felt like. Instead of plunging into the ocean below her, she was soaring once again.

But Sharon felt her lungs scream for air, and she tore her mouth away, gasping for breath but also trying to relieve the pain that had begun to build. Brenda's hair was just as fine, her lips just as soft, her skin just as smooth, and it was all too much. The hurt, the anger, the loss that she had felt over the years came crashing over her like a wave, and she found herself drowning underneath the weight of it all.

She couldn't do this again.

She lowered her hands to Brenda's shoulders, pushing her away, even while missing the feeling of Brenda's lips on her neck.

Brenda, who had been too lost in the sensations of Sharon, blinked as her brain caught up with the loss. She stared at the brunette, trying to understand the sudden change, but when her eyes finally found the once vibrant but still green eyes, the pieces fell together. In the place of what she had hoped to see, perhaps a reflection of the love and affection she knew was in her own eyes, was pain. Sharon's eyes were dilated, her breathing uneven, but all Brenda could see was pure, unadulterated pain, and she felt her own heart shatter. She knew how suffocating that pain felt. She had been living with it for years. She had even described it to Sharon before. _It physically pains me to be around you_, she had written to her years ago. _I feel my heart wanting to rip itself from my body so it could be with you, and I can't live with that pain anymore. I can barely breathe when I'm around you._

Brenda couldn't bear to be the cause of such horror and hurt for Sharon. No, she had ripped open wounds that she did not know had run so deep for the brunette. She stood quickly as she realized that this was the end. She had taken her chance, and it was over. She had to leave.

"Um, I should go," she said, combing down her hair with her fingers as she reached for her purse.

"Maybe that's for the best."

Brenda felt the thudding ache in her heart grow as she heard the words, as though her heart had turned into a tiny person screaming and pounding against her chest cavity. But this was what she deserved for having been such a coward. Maybe things could have been different if she had been braver back then, been braver even a year ago. But too much time had passed for them both.

She tossed her bag over her shoulder before rounding the couch, but as she neared the entrance, she turned and found Sharon rising to her feet, intending to walk her out.

"Thank you for everythin', Sharon. I really did mean it then, and I mean it now. You were the reason I survived my last year at the LAPD, and I really am grateful."

"You're welcome Brenda. And I wish you all the best in DC. I hope the job is a good fit for you."

Brenda gave her a weak smile and headed for the door, having run out of words to say. She had said her peace, and Sharon had made her intentions clear. But this felt empty – her final farewell with the woman who was the sole possessor her heart was an unwanted kiss and an exchange of polite words. _Empty, but fitting_, she thought.

Sharon, perhaps knowing that this was it, reached out; this couldn't be the way they said their final goodbye.

"Brenda."

She reached for the blonde, pulling on her arm until she was turned and wrapped in an embrace, both gripping tightly, and the tears began to fall from both women. Brenda cried for her own cowardice, for the loss of what could have been, for the pain of knowing that the comfort she felt in this embrace would be the last. Her body shook as the sobs broke free. For three years, she had banned herself from crying over Sharon, forcing herself to clamp down and focus on her marriage. But now, back in the safety of Sharon's embrace, it was all too much. She finally understood the feeling of being utterly and irreparably crushed.

Sharon's tears fell silently as Brenda buried her face in her neck, the weight of the boulder having become so heavy that instead of feeling burdened, she felt nothing but aching pain. She was holding Brenda in her arms again after so many years, and she felt like she was being pulverized from the inside out as the reality of Brenda's permanent departure hit her. If Brenda left now, she would have to carry this weight with her for the rest of her life, forever wondering and fearful of the questions of if and when.

Minutes passed, both women taking solace in the only place either of them had truly felt safe. Brenda's sobs had quieted, but neither woman had the heart to let go. Sharon pulled her head back and Brenda lifted hers, their foreheads coming to rest together. And Sharon found she couldn't bring herself to release her arms. She needed to let Brenda go, she needed to send her away so she could go on with her life and Brenda could start her new one. Brenda, who had caused her so much pain and grief over the years, but also Brenda, whom she loved more than she thought she was capable of loving another human being. She was in her arms again, and Sharon knew that the pain of letting go would be worse than having her here. She knew that if they never attempted to answer the question of what if, it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

_If it breaks me, then so be it. But then at least we'll have proper closure_, she thought as the words left her mouth.

"I don't want you to go to DC."


End file.
